And the Days That Pass Us By
by hp1piececraziness
Summary: A car hits Kitahara Asuka and reality seems to have taken a vacation from then on. Stuck in the company of a sly bartender, a possibly insane story collector, and a cold inn manager, Asuka just wants to go back home, despite her supposed death. While in her stubborn refusal to acknowledge her death, the memories of her past life slip away. And she realizes her mistake too late.
1. Hit the Floor Running

**This is an OC-centric story. And when I say OC-centric, I mean, characters-from-the-franchise-don't-even-physically-appear OC-centric. This is an OC-centric story that explores a headcanon of mine that came from way in the beginning of Bleach. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. This disclaimer will stand true for the rest of this fic as well.**

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><p>Chapter 1: Hit the Floor Running<p>

Asuka hadn't seen the car, nor had she heard it. At the point of impact, she, like the driver, was too busy with a phone to notice much else. Headphones drowned out city noise and car noise.

A slam of metal and then another one on asphalt. Whether or not the driver stopped, Asuka didn't know. She didn't see or hear of feel anymore. She was gone from the world in that instant.

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><p>It took a few seconds for Asuka to process the image her eyes were dutifully handing to her brain. Lots of brown. Blinking a few more times, Asuka finally saw that the brown was walls, floor, and bookcases in an old, brown, unfamiliar room. What was she doing in this place? Rolling onto her side from her back, Asuka took stock of her surroundings. There weren't that many old buildings in the heart of the city where she lived with her family and pet birds. Pushing herself up, Asuka barely noticed the worn blanket that slid off her arms. Something more important had caught her attention.<p>

She wasn't wearing the t-shirt, hoody, jeans, and boots that she had donned that morning before leaving the apartment. Instead, a faded, orange yukata was wrapped around her. Her phone and music player were nowhere in sight either.

"Someone took my belongings," she gasped. Louder, she added, "And changed my clothes while I was unconscious!"

Throwing the blanket out of her way completely, Asuka leaped from the futon, also worn and old, and rushed to the room's door, legs wobbling slightly. The door slid open smoothly and she stumbled into the hallway. Earthy green wallpaper on the walls of the hallway greeted her. Both ends of the hallway turned off to somewhere Asuka couldn't see. A tiny murmur of sound came from somewhere unidentifiable. Candlelight flickered in her face.

"Uh," Asuka clung onto the doorframe, unsure where to go. Doors to more rooms lined the walls.

She huffed, "Well, the left side is closer."

Shuffling over to the end in her bare feet, Asuka trailed her fingers on the crinkled wallpaper. The unfamiliarity was rattling and she tried calming herself down with imagining how her artist friend, Mishima, would act. Probably mime an old geezer by stroking her chin and huffing in a low voice about homely tones and color agreement. Asuka smiled slightly thinking about the energetic brunette. Mishima would get a kick out of learning that her friend had been randomly kidnapped off the streets after she finished her hovercraft-parent spiel. She was weird that way.

Still, Asuka wondered where she was when she reached the turn. She had definitely been on her way to Miroku's house to work on that stupid school project before –

Oh.

_Oh no_.

No, no, no, no, no.

Staring at the dead end before her, she suddenly remembered the car that slammed into her from nowhere. Something in her had cracked and crunched as she went flying in the air. Her headphones were ripped from her ears as the music player shot out of her pocket.

There was little chance that Asuka was alive, much less walking around, aimlessly in old, candlelit buildings. So how _was_ she walking around, and where was she?

Although, Asuka's brain kept chattering as she pivoted on her feet and tore down the hall, maybe she had been in a coma and someone for some sick reason kidnapped her from the hospital just before she woke up. You know, totally possible, have to look at everything here. She ran past the candles, past the crinkled wallpaper, past the door she left open, down to the other end of the hall, and around the corner. Yeah, that theory was probably close to what happened. And in that case – Asuka thumped down the stairs that was at the other end of the hallway – she was ready to give a piece of her mind to whoever changed her clothing in her sleep and pepper them with questions.

Bastards took her from the hospital and shoved her in some brown room like a hamster shoved back in its cage. Well this bird's gonna fly and no one can stop her, justice will be served to all the perverts. Painfully. In the nuts. Hey, she's done it before and can do it again, don't judge this little girl, 'cause this little girl's an eagle, caw caw. Wait, that's not the sound eagles make.

Skipping the last few steps of the stair, Asuka glanced at the three corridors – one to her right, one to her left, and one right before her. The noise of a crowd came from the corridor in front of her. Noise meant people, and people meant answers. Asuka went down this hall. And kept going to the open door to her right and, oh hello, she walked into a bar.

More candles lit the dark wood surfaces. The round tables of the room were occupied with people, drinking, laughing, and talking. In the far corner, a bartender mixed drinks and chatted with customers. Everyone was also wearing yukata. Bizarre, what happened to wearing t-shirts and shorts when it was warm? Maybe some new fashion trend came up while Asuka had been in a coma.

"Hey pretty girl! You just gonna stand there? Come of over here!" A voice leered out.

Asuka turned to the man who called out and wrinkled her nose. No way was she going near some drunk pervert. The man's call got the attention of several other patrons who also started calling out and whistling.

Completely disgruntled with the situation, with how she had first been abducted and now she was being hit on, Asuka strode over to the bartender, ignoring and avoiding the tables. Her bare feet slapped the wooden floorboards as she marched and fumed. At the bar, Asuka shimmied onto a cloth covered seat and smacked the wooden bar. The bartender came over.

Not in the mood to play games like she normally would, Asuka narrowed her eyes at the man cleaning a glass and ground out, "Where am I? Why am I not in a hospital, I should be in a hospital after the car accident."

The bartender seemed amused, if his easy-going smirk was anything to go by. "Hospital? You don't need a hospital. 'Sides, no one in these parts can afford a doctor, let alone a hospital. No hospitals 'round here, sweetheart. Don't know what car accident you're talkin' about, you aren't wounded, 'far as I can see. Anyhow, you're at the Black Rose. Kuro found you by the forest edge outback 'nd dragged you in 'fore you ended up dead via other Souls or Hollows, doesn't matter which."

"I was hit by a car," Asuka deadpanned, plowing on with her original objective and ignoring the other jumbles of words and phrases that had no meaning to her. "And who's this Kuro? No, better question: _who took my belongings and changed my clothing while I was asleep_?"

The bartender merely shrugged, his devil-may care attitude never slipping, and said, "Sorry to hear 'bout your belongings. Urchins must have stolen them 'fore Kuro found you. And don't worry, sweetheart, Kuro's the one who bathed and clothed you. Now, 'nough jabberin'. Do you wanna drink?"

Indignant about the "sweethearts" and her lost belongings, but deciding to leave those problems for later, Asuka rocked back before sighing and requested, "Some juice if you could. But I don't have any money on me."

"Ah, don't worry 'bout that," the bartender chuckled as he walked to the selves, long fingers skimming over the bottles before hovering between two squat, ceramic jugs, "Cute lady like you, I can let you pass this once. Apple or grape? And I can see you Wanatabe, and you still gotta pay, you cheap ass."

Asuka turned to see who the bartender was talking to. "Apple, please," she shot distractedly.

"No need for the pleasantries, not many 'round here that use 'em."

To Asuka's right, a few seats down, sat a man with sharp cheekbones and short, cropped, dark hair. He was pouting and flipping through a book with handwriting in it, shrugging in his navy blue yukata. "Come on," he whined to the bartender. "Wilfred, I'm such a good friend to you. I come every day and I help you break up drunken bastard's fights; can't I get a free drink every now and then? And I told you to call me Ryuuhei, we've known each other for long enough."

The bartender, Wilfred – a weird name, Asuka mused as a glass of golden juice was placed before her and her thanks were waved off – glared at Wanatabe. "I don't give free drinks t' men and you only come here every day to see if you can catch some new stories and hit on Kuro."

Sipping her drink – which had the taste of a homemade kind and something else – Asuka frowned at the mention of this "Kuro" figure again. She interrupted the now squabbling men, "You know I still haven't figured out who this Kuro is."

Wanatabe grinned slyly. "Beautiful woman, she helps my friend Wilfred here to run the Black Rose. Although, I have a question for you too: you said something about a car crash?"

Grimacing at the reminder to Asuka's situation with abductions and drunks and alcohol and odd trends, Asuka nodded. Wanatabe looked overjoyed, his dark brown eyes taking on an excited gleam. He stuck out his hand to Asuka and smiled. "My name's Wanatabe Ryuuhei. So sorry about your loss. How has your stay at Soul Society been so far?"

"Soul Society? Never heard of the place before. Is that where we are right now?" Asuka asked, not fully trusting Wanatabe with his overly enthusiastic response to the news of her car crash. Actually, she didn't trust either men and had no idea why she was still talking to them and listening to their shenanigans. She also was still wary of this whole "found at the forest and then brought here" story; she had no business at a forest. Frankly, she'd never seen a proper forest in her life. Cities had no room for forests. And even if the tale she was being fed was right, and these people didn't abduct her, then who did take her from the hospital where she had surely been recovering?

Speaking of the hospital, Asuka's brain wandered and worried about her family. Her dad would be worried sick about his hurt little girl and now she was taken from the hospital and her mom, in her calm and collected way, would also worry more quietly. Her older brother who was in college would surely have received the news of his baby sister being hurt and rushed back home when he could. Hopefully someone was still taking care of the birds, the little guys had to be treated with affection every day or they would grow lonely.

Lost in these wanderings of her mind, she barely processed the man sitting next to her explain about this "Soul Society," gesturing wildly all the way. Wilfred had moved on to serve some other customers, leaving the two by themselves.

"Oh you must be new! I love meeting the new Souls. They are always able to keep remembering their life! They haven't had enough time to forget yet. Anyways, welcome to Soul Society, this is where Souls reside after they've passed on. Everyone comes here first. There are a bunch of different sections, but that doesn't matter, all that matters in the end really is that there is a lot of land with a lot of people and the bastards in the middle of the whole shebang are, well, bastards. Don't go there; nothing good comes from the center of Soul Society."

Asuka blinked slowly, her distracted brain not really taking in the information. "Uh," she fished around for what to say and brought her concentration back to the matters at hand. The words flopped out of her mouth, "How can I get back home?"

Wanatabe's expression didn't change from his excitement. "You can't. Sorry, you're dead now."


	2. A Denial

Chapter 2: A Denial

"Sorry," Asuka hissed, suddenly very much focused on Wanatabe as the man fiddled with a bar of dry ink, "_what _did you say?"

"'Sorry, you're dead now.' As in gone, kaput, dead. A spirit," Wanatabe chirped as he dug around in a bag on his lap. "You're not going back home. Only shinigami can visit the World of the Living and those sons of bitches are snobs. Stupid the whole lot of them. No one sensible likes them. Might as well not even think about going back home."

Asuka had already been frustrated since she woke up and her patience was currently fraying. Her parents had always wondered where her short fuse came from. Her parents, who this crack case smacking his hand against the bar to call for Wilfred, claimed that Asuka couldn't go back to see again.

Okay, Asuka didn't believe him at all. Originally she had given Wanatabe the benefit of doubt since she had never laid eyes on the man before, but no one said something like that without a straight face and certainly not with the childish glee that he was leaking. Chugging back the rest of her drink furiously, Asuka slammed the ceramic cup onto the bar and rounded on Wilfred as the bartender arrived to take Wanatabe's order.

Wilfred arched an eyebrow at her obvious anger and smirked. Before Asuka could get a word in edgewise, he cut in, "Gee man, did ya have to tell 'er the whole damn bombshell? I told you t' stop doin' that. And what do you want, eh?"

"The usual," Wanatabe remarked, ignoring the glares Asuka was shooting him with. He flipped through his book to an empty page. "And what's the problem with telling the newcomers they're dead now? Saves the trouble that would happen later if you didn't tell them."

Retrieving several bottles, Wilfred groaned. "'T's not that. The way you do it, 's what could use lots o' improvement. Stop chirpin' everywhere, damn it. Makes a man wanna clobber you over the head and beat you up for even openin' your mouth." He was also ignoring the fury radiating from Asuka.

Drinks were mixed together, then poured into a cup and slid to Wanatabe who smiled in thanks. The man never seemed to stop acting like an idiot. Downing the drink in a gulp, he gesture for more. He laughed. "I can take care of it, I tell you! After all, who's the one that goes around collecting stories, hm?"

"And who's the one that also keeps gettin' the black eyes and bruises? Not me," Wilfred snorted. "There's a reason why I asked fo' ya to let me do the talkin'. I can do it much better than you can."

"They do keep going for the face," Wanatabe sighed.

"Your face is stupid. It does need a good beatin' every 'nce 'nd a while. Can I get you a refill, sweetheart?"

Asuka nodded, her messy, black hair bobbing before her eyes. Loudly, she demanded, "What does he mean, I'm _dead_? I'm not dead, see, I've got a heartbeat, I'm breathing, and I can still throw a mean punch. There's no way this is real, dead people don't run around and act like doofuses. Dead people are, like, _dead_."

"'nd this is why," Wilfred groaned as he poured a refill for Asuka, "I tell you to let me do the talkin'. Or, hell, let Kuro do it, doesn't matter, snake lady c'n even do a better job than ya."

The bartender placed his elbows on the wood, chin resting in his left palm as he keep smirking at Asuka, their faces on the same level now. She glared at him over the rim of her cup, and noted that the smirk, while just as patronizing and coy, was looking strained and the cockiness didn't reach his eyes. He didn't quale from Asuka's peeved glare.

"I really haveta apologize fo' this dumbass. He's always too enthusiastic 'bout his work t' have tact with new Souls. 'nfortunately, he's right." Wilfred's voice softened. "Everyone 'ere's dead. You 'nd me. I'm so sorry. You really were too young t' come 'ere."

Shaking her head, Asuka replied, "I still don't really believe you. I honestly – I'm dead? No way, that's not possible."

"You got hit by a car, can't say I'm surprised you're dead."

Both Asuka and Wilfred whipped their heads around and glared at Wanatabe. He shrugged and helped himself to more alcohol. Wilfred ran a hand over his face and groaned again. Asuka thought she heard something along the lines of "_'hy do I never kick 'im out 'f the bar_" or something to that effect. Personally, Asuka just wanted to shove him out of his chair and then stomp on him while Wanatabe was on the floor.

"What did I say 'bout shuttin' up?" Wilfred hissed.

Wanatabe mimed zipping his lips but didn't stop smiling.

Still not convinced about the whole being dead business, Asuka prodded Wilfred's arm to get his attention. "You still don't have me on this whole dead thing. If I'm dead – which I think is complete boloney, by the way – then doesn't that mean I'm like a ghost? And ghosts hang around and haunt people. Not get shunted off to some bizarre old fashioned place."

Wilfred shook his head and smacked Wanatabe over the head before he could speak. "Thing is, sweetheart, that 'snt' 'ow it works. Most 'f the time, you die 'nd 'mmediately come to Soul Society. Some people straggle, but they're 'nusual. You die 'n Japan, you come to the Japanese Soul Society. Die 'n somewhere 'lse, ya go t' that Soul Society. 'his why I'm 'ere 'stead of the American Soul Society. Died 'n Japan and got sent 'ere. Could be worse, could 'ave been the British."

"I still don't believe you."

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, really am. But we can't do anythin'," his face was sober, but then a grin broke through again, "Refill?"

Asuka nodded and Wilfred poured out more for her. Her mind was getting fuzzy, but she blamed the ridiculousness of her situation.

"Anyways," Wilfred glanced out a set of door that Asuka hadn't noticed earlier. Soft candlelight from outside illuminated a dirt street. He continued, "I think 't's time f'r you t' turn 'n for the night. Sun went down long time 'go. Ya 'member 'ere your room is?"

She nodded again and staggered out of her chair. Wilfred waved her off with a smirk before rounding on Wanatabe with a murderous look as Wanatabe tried to slip away without paying.

The din of the bar faded as she stumbled back up the stairs and down to her room, her door still left open. The events of the day were catching up on her and she felt exhausted. The two men she talked with, the perverted drunk did not count, were odd. Both always had a smile or a smirk on their face nearly all the time. Wanatabe was too cheerful though, and it put Asuka on an edge. His cheer was borderline insane. She liked Wilfred better, even with his odd slurring voice and calculating eyes and cocky smirk. Still, Asuka thought to herself as she flopped onto the futon and stared at the ceiling, there was no way she was dead. It was probably an elaborate front these kidnappers were using on her. Turning on her side and trying to get comfortable, Asuka bit her lower lip as she wondered about her family and friends. They probably had the police looking for her. And then she could go back home when she was found. Everything would be alright.

She didn't notice when exactly she fell asleep. Sleep came quickly even despite how she was only awake for an hour at most.

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><p>Asuka woke up and promptly wished she was still unconscious. If she thought the buzzing last night had been troublesome, then today was on par with the headache she had from her concussion a few years ago. Probably worse actually. Shifting deeper under her blanket, Asuka scrunched her eyes closed more. For a moment she was tempted to forget what happened the last time she had been awake or call it a dream, but the hard floor under her and the pounding headache was telling her that yes, she was still stuck with a bunch of kidnappers.<p>

With a groan, she tried to will herself back to sleep. Footsteps and clatter in the hallway sent spikes through her head and did nothing to help her in her attempt for more sleep. Finally, she simply rolled out of the futon and surveyed her room. There was a drawer and bookcase tucked together in a corner and candles were fixed to the walls. A small mirror hung above the drawer. More bookcases lined the opposite wall from her. A small window let in some light past heavy curtains. Only one door led out from the room. She remembered this door from yesterday, this door led to the hallway didn't it?

Standing up, Asuka wandered over to the mirror and try to see how stupid she would look if she went outside in her current state. While her hair was normally a spiky bird's nest, it was even worse today, strands sticking this way and that and flopping over her bleary eyes. Her yukata had creases and a general rumpled appearance. Asuka grimaced and pinched her slightly hooked nose, then tried smoothing down her hair and clothing. She was going to need to obtain some other sets of clothing and take a shower. It wouldn't do to look like a mess in some random kidnapper's base.

…

Where the hell was a bathroom?

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><p><strong>So much dialogue…<strong>


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